Extraneous
by Wunderberry
Summary: Propriety dictated, that's why he did it. A broken heart, that's why she did. Tradition and propriety rules, but sometimes, propriety restricts. SK
1. Chapter 1

Hi. I just wanted to pop in and say don't forget to review. They make it much more worth my while to update.

**~'~**

The sparks float upwards, to the crescent moon hanging in the dark sky. They sparkle and flicker, before disappearing into the darkness. Some don't fly upwards, some fly off to the side, hit the dirt ground and evaporate. They don't last though, don't take root and start a blazing fire to burn the village to ashes. They just glimmer and perish.

She wished her love could glimmer and perish. She wished she could be like the sparks and fly away into the night sky before vanishing into oblivion. She wished she could be the fire, licking at the blackened remains of the hanyo who once would be clad in clothing that would've protected him from the red-orange flames. She wished she wasn't here, not because she didn't want to be in the village clearing, but because of what it meant, what is signaled. She didn't want to be here, because she shouldn't have had to be here.

Standing in front of the pyre, she oversaw the burning, though she was here for other reasons as well. It wasn't just because she was the village miko, because she wore the red hakama, the white haori, and the red string draped over her neck like a pearl necklace. It was because she was the deceased man's wife.

She was a miko. How was that possible? How could she be the wife of a man? A hanyo? Didn't it say that a miko's powers disappeared if she slept with a man?

Superstitions aside, yes, she was married to a man, a hanyo, she had slept with him, and no, she had not lost her powers. Did that matter though? Did it matter that every evening, in her hut, when she stirred the nightly stew, it was for a man as well? Did it matter that the bed she slept in was made for two every morning? Did it matter that late at night she would whisper in his ear expletives that no other miko knew? Perhaps, perhaps not, but not anymore as the fire burned, licking his flesh into nothingness.

Did anything matter, she wonders, arms hanging at her sides as she watches the flame reaching to the skies. Did the fact she wasn't from this time matter? Did it matter that she was from a time of Windows 2000 and PlayStation 2s? Did it matter that she was the daughter of Higurashi Seijirou, a car salesman at a local dealership before his untimely death, daughter of Higurashi Aimi, a house wife with a degree from Harvard, granddaughter of Higurashi Ishirou, priest of the Sunset Shrine and brother of a famous scientist, and sister of the middle school student Higurashi Souta? Did it matter that she had been the one who made the fateful wish, destroyed the Shikon no Tama? Did it matter that she was the reincarnation of the miko Kikyou?

No, it didn't.

At least it didn't seem like it. If he was standing beside her, he because she could not bear to say his name, he would tell her that that was what made her her, and therefore it was important. He would tell her not to forget who she was because of where she was, and he would laugh, the melodious sound floating through the air.

But he wasn't there, and he wasn't saying those things to her. He wasn't laughing, he was burning, and her heart was burning with him.

She fell to her knees, eyes wide and blank as she stared at the wooden base of the pyre, hands digging into the dirt. She heard a gasp, it wasn't hers, she had no air with which to gasp with, and felt a hand gently resting on her shoulder. She didn't glance up, but she knew who's small, calloused hand was resting on her shoulder. Sango. Sango, the yokai slayer, the mother, the wife of a monk.

This was such a strange village, with one couple that was a monk and a yokai slayer and formerly a couple that was a miko and a hanyo.

"Kagome, are you okay?" The words barely register in her ears, and her name is even harder to hear.

Kagome. Please don't call her Kagome. Let Kagome die with her husband.

"I can walk you back to your hut, Kagome."

Kagome. Hut. Please let Kagome die. Please let the hut burn with the body, let the ashes not even be remembered.

"Kagome can you hear me?"

No, she heard the woman, heard her loud and clear, not that she wanted to hear the woman.

"Kagome, answer me damn it!"

Kagome's eyes snapped to the woman, neck jerking, hurting. She looked into Sango's brown eyes, her dull grey ones just that, dull. The woman's face is marred with concern, care, and sadness, cheeks red, eyes puff, skin blotchy as if she had been crying.

"What?" she asks in a small, timid voice. Don't be scared, her husband would've told her, it's okay to be sad, and it'll be okay. But she pushed that thought to the back of the mind, because he wasn't here and he wasn't talking to her.

"Kagome, I think you need to go back home." Sango tugged at Kagome's sleeve, and pulled the miko to her sandal-clad feet. She put Kagome's arm around her should, biting her lip as she felt the dead weight of Kagome.

"But the bones…" Kagome's grey eyes flicked back to the pyre and the flames. "The fire. We're not done here," Kagome whispers, pulling her arm back to her side, taking a step back, gaze locked on the pyre of flames.

"It can wait," Sango says. Her voice is strong, authoritative. Just like the woman who uses the voice, imposing, resilient.

Kagome glances back at Sango, and then glances to the flames again. No, she thought, her jaw clenching. This was not over, it cannot wait. She has to do this, she is the miko, she can't let this affect her. No other wife does, they stand at the side, silent and proud, and when it is over, they walk to the smoldering ashes and stick their fingers in to grab the bones, burning themselves in the process. That's who she has to be, at least pretend to be. She has to be those women, Ai, Kimiko, Kyoko, Mariko, Meiko, Bunko, Akari. Those women, they were strong, she had to be like them.

"Kagome, the ashes will be too hot and it will be too dark!"

She would much rather burn her fingers fumbling around in the dark than return to the home she once shared with him, return to sleeping on the sheets that he slept on too. No. She'd wants to go up in flames like her husband, but since she can't, she'll let herself scab and scar because at least then she's feeling and she's touching her husband.

When Sango realizes, standing beside her best friend, hand hanging in the air, centimeters from her friend, hesitating from patting her in a reassuring manner, that Kagome isn't going to listen to her, and isn't going to back away. She sighs, and lets her hand fall because it's futile. For a moment, she continues to watch the miko who is watching the fire, but turns her head away because she can no longer bear to watch the sadness.

Sango returns to the side of her husband, feet shuffling through the dirt, casting glances over her shoulder at the woman. She's concerned, she knows her friend is hurting. But Sango tried to offer help, and found a wall of unmovable, impenetrable stone. She knows what her friend is feeling is grief, but also understand that it's to an unhealthy degree.

"How is she?" asks Miroku as Sango stops moving, still peering over her shoulder at the woman outlined in fire.

"Bad."

**~'~**

"I don't know if you recall me, but I was the monk that helped defeat Naraku and traveled with your…" the words hitched in Miroku's throat. Gulping down the lump, he continued. "…brother, his wife the miko Kagome, and a yokai slayer named Sango who I have married. My name is Miroku."

Across the wooden table sits the epitome of perfection. Finely thinned black eyebrows, shaved to perfection chin, golden eyes narrowed and slanted like a cat, tapered fingers, kept fingernails sharp like claws, hair groomed and left hanging to his knees colored white, and sculpted cheekbones that finished off the aristocratic look. His face was impassive, unreadable as he observed the monk, lips drawn into a thin line of not distaste, or anger, or bitterness, just a thin line.

"I recall," he states plainly, his voice carrying a mellow baritone that pleased the ears. "State why you are here."

The monk gulps again, glancing down at his hands, the dirt beneath his fingernails. His hands are pressed against his knees, covered by the black and purple cloths of his monk uniform. His shoulders hunched, he can no longer meet the eyes of the daiyōkai who is perfection. He simply can't, not when he here is for what he is, and the daiyōkai is requesting that he say it.

He has a right to know, does he not thought? It is his brother after all, they shared blood, even if the brotherly bond was lacking at best and downright shameful at worst. And anyway, he is not here just to tell him of such depressing news, it's for another as well. Whether he is right in assuming that Sesshōmaru would uphold to the same senses of propriety and duty that humankind dictates, is unknown, but if it is true even slightly, than he it will help greatly.

"I regret to tell you that InuYasha has passed away."

The daiyōkai remains blank for moments that seem to drag on into eternity, but then he minutely nods his head and closes his golden eyes. When he reopens them, they are not sharp like they were before, not observing him with doubt and semi-concealed distaste. They're dull with a heavy melancholy, for the word sadness doesn't really fit the scene.

"That is terrible news," he finally says, his voice unreadable, conveying no emotion, but his face does speak a little. "If I may ask," he continues, "how did my brother pass? Was he given a proper funeral?" He pauses for a moment, glancing at the tatami mats, muttering something about human tradition. "Has his remains been burned and his wife picked out his bones to worship at a temple? That it is how it's done, right?"

"It has been all taken care of, his body was burned, the bones and ashes compiled, and buried." Sesshōmaru nods, as Miroku looks down again, images and thoughts of the process blurring together into a reel of grief within his mind. "Your brother passed in battle, honorably I suppose. He fell at the hands of a snake yokai who injected him with strong toxins. We did everything within our power to save him, but no matter what we tried, it failed. The snake yokai was killed though, by your brother, before the toxins took too strong a hold on him."

"Was it just a snake yokai or a daiyōkai, because I have been having… issues with the snake yokai tribe myself."

Miroku gulped, balling and unballing his hand. This conversation makes the bile rise in his throat, not from Sesshōmaru who seems surprisingly upset, but because he shouldn't have to be having it. He shouldn't have to be telling the brother of his best friend that he's dead. He shouldn't have to be detailing the funeral, or how he died. He shouldn't have to be answering whether or not the person that killed him might have had a vendetta against InuYasha's brother that he decided to take out on InuYasha. But he is, and he has too, and so he does.

"I believe so. The yokai originally took a human form when we first met him, and as the fight progressed he turned into giant snake. He had a white diamond shape on his forehead, if that helps." He can barely believe the words rolling off his tongue.

"The white diamond is a sign of the royal family amongst snake yokai. Likely InuYasha was an unneeded casualty in a war that was not his own." Miroku notices Sesshōmaru jaw clench. "They will pay for that. The do not kill a member of my family and get away with it. It goes against the laws of yokai kind, so they must the pay price."

Miroku nods, surprised by the grief that Sesshōmaru is displaying. He is here for another reason though, and the need to move onto that.

"InuYasha's wife, Kagome, is still alive, left a widow. In human culture, it would be expected of you to take her in and I personally have come to ask you to do so because I, and my wife, believe that it is unhealthy for Kagome's mental state that she is left in the village. She has been very withdrawn and quiet and careless." Miroku thinks back to just before he left the village, when Kagome had claimed that she was coming with him and in the first three steps they'd taken, he bare feet had left a trail of blood from a gash across the bottom of her foot. Her hands could barely hold her bag as she had begged him to take her with him, trembling from the pain of pressure on her burns. "She is ignoring injuries and purposely putting herself in harm's way."

He looks up to Sesshōmaru with wide eyes, hopeful that the description of the miko's state would help influence his decision. But Sesshōmaru has calmed his grief and anger, a wears his mask of aristocratic stoicism again. He just hopes that it has worked, and awaits in the agonizingly drawn out period for Sesshōmaru's answer.

"That is also custom in my culture," he finally responds. "It is sad to hear though that I must do so. I always pictured Kagome as stronger than that, above letting herself go like that in her grief. It is pathetic, but many women I suppose are that way. Love sickness, the act of allowing themselves to waste away, become thin and bones because of love. Pathetic. And Kagome allowing herself to be injured, even injuring herself in her desolation is no better."

"It's not like that!" Miroku harshly bites out, shattering the quiet, gloomy air to the room. He pulls himself back though, as the sharp, biting glare of Sesshōmaru cuts into him. "I'm sorry, I just mean that what Kagome is going through is nothing out of the ordinary for someone who has lost someone that they love, and men go through things like this too. Humans, at least, when someone they love dearly dies, often would rather be dead. Your brother often mourned Kagome and was very reckless at first when she disappeared those three years. He was the same way. It heals though as they go on."

He is certain that it isn't just humans that go through this, or those with human blood, but he does not add that too his spoken thoughts. Sesshōmaru doesn't feel emotion, he doesn't understand the concepts of loves or how it feels. He is only grieving, upset, because his enemy has seemingly gotten the better of him. He doesn't get that people, human and demon, are strongly affected by love.

"Hm," he sounds. "Whatever the case is, I shall be by in three days' time to bring Kagome here. I thank you for coming here and informing, but I now have things to attend to so I bid you farewell. A servant will be in to see you out."

Miroku bids Sesshōmaru a farewell in a formal bow, and watches the silver haired aristocrat leave. He knows as he watches that he has done the best for Kagome, even if he has his misgivings regarding the man himself. Kagome needs to be away from the place where InuYasha is strongest, and to do that, she must get away.

Still, he cannot help but return to the village with a cold chill and a heavy tread.

**~'~**

_Kagome holds out her hands in front of the pot, letting the heat from the crackling fire drift and warm her cold hands. She is making radish stew. It is harder than it looks, she thinks with a sigh, pulling back her hands and picking up the lid tentatively. It clatters back against the metal pot and she shakes her hand, hissing at the pain of touching the hot metal. It is __**much **__harder than it looks to make radish stew._

_Then she hears a laughter. She looks up to the source of the sound, one finger popped into her mouth as she laths her tongue around the burning flesh, to see the white-haired hanyo. She sneers at him from around her finger, as go back to nursing her pained appendages. She pours cool water she'd pulled from the well the other day into a wooden bowl, and sticks her hand in the water. With an ah, a smile of contentment spreads against her face as shivers race up her arm. It is cool, but it is relief._

_"You know, if you need help, you can just ask me," he says, approaching the pot. She glances at him with a sharp glare, watching as he pulls off the top and picks up the wooden spoon to stir the creamy liquid. She sneers at him again, rolling her eyes and looking off to the side to hide the red tinge to her cheeks._

_Keh, show off._

_"You know, if you just weren't so stubborn," he says, humored by her antics. She looks back at him, reminding him of the fact she is glaring at him. He frowns. "Look, did I hurt your feelings? I didn't mean to." He smiles at her brightly, and she cannot help but smile back._

_He pulls her into a hug, wrapping one arm around her waist and the other holding the back of her head as she presses it into his red-clad chest. _

_Those were the days._


	2. Chapter 2

And here is chapter two of Extraneous! I hope you enjoy, and please don't forget to review!

**~'~**

_The stars twinkle in the night sky, their light the only guide in the darkness of the new moon. Shining bright, this is their moment in the spotlight, and so they put on a good show, light the dirt path as the couple hand in hand walks along it._

_The male of the couple was tall, in red clothing, bare feet stepping one in front of the other. This night, unlike many nights or days, his fingernails aren't pointed and clawed. They are the soft, blunt nails of a human. Just like his ears. They're rounded parts on the side of his head, not fur-covered triangles poking out from his mane of white hair. And his hair. While it still reaches his back, it is softer in comparison to how coarse it normally is, and instead of a greyish-white, it is black like the night sky. In the darkness, one could hardly see his eyes, but rather than the sharp amber hue they normally were, they were a soft, gentle brown._

_Beside him, the woman holding his hand, had black hair and grey eyes. She was human, not just for the night like he was, but forever. Human, mortal. A miko. A time-traveler. She was so many things, maybe not hanyo like him, but the rest of her made her just as interesting as him. And he loved all of it, from her occasional slip up into unfamiliar words to her strange mannerisms, to him, it made her perfect._

_Inuyasha and Kagome._

_They walked along the path, the through woods, beneath the brown tree branches and green leaves. He couldn't hear the bird, bugs, and small critters rustling through the underbrush like he normally could, and was glad for that. She, who never heard such things, but didn't feel the nasty aura of demons was also glad for that. She didn't want to have to fight, not when he was human and weak, and this was the first time in three years that she had seen him._

_"I didn't think you'd come back," he finally murmurs. She looks up at him, grey eyes wide as she stares at the hanyo turned human. She squeezes his hand, feels his blunt human nails against the palm of her hand, and smiles at him. He smiles back._

_"I didn't think I would."_

_For three years, she shared his sentiment. Of course, in those three years, he too didn't believe she would come back. But those three years were over, school was done, she had a useless high-school diploma. Her friends were off to college. Her brother was in middle school. Here she was now, in the past, the present to her forever now, no longer with tests to study for, or a social life to keep up with, or stress over whatever crazy illness her grandfather had come up with. She was in the past now, safe, belonging._

_"I'm glad you came back though."_

_For three years, he hadn't believed he'd ever see her again. He had been prepared to go on the rest of his life believing that, knowing that. He would've never given up on her, he'd always stand by the well, peering into its dark depths in hopes of catching a glimpse of what was happening on the other side. He would've gone on hoping for the best life for her, hoping that she finished high school, got good test scores, went to college, settled down with a good man, had many lovely children, and so on._

_But he didn't have to do that anymore. She was here, real, holding his hand, breathing in the same air he was, taking in the same sights that he was. She wasn't in the future anymore, beyond his grasp. She was in his grasp._

_She smiles at him, eyes shutting tight with happiness. "I am too."_

**~'~**

Arms are thrown around the cool metal of his armor, and he glances down to the sixteen year old human that was once the eight year old girl he brought back from the dead. He stands stiff, uncomfortable in her hold for such displays of emotion weren't familiar to him. Foreign. Human. That was what they were to him. But this was Rin. While she was foreign, her kindness and good heart was unlike what he's always come to know, and she was human, there was not a doubt of that, she was still Rin.

"My lord, it is so good to see you!" she happily exclaims, pulling away from him to stand at the side, looking up at him with joy and devotion. She rocks on the balls of her feet, barely holding herself back from hugging him again by clasping her hands behind her back. Her lord looks down at her, emotionless as ever, but she sees the small hints in his golden orbs that is seems only she can pick up on. He is annoyed because of what has brought him here, but he is glad to see her.

"Hn," he sounds.

She knows her lord. As silent and as cold as he comes off to others, she knows that he has feelings, and she knows just how to read them. She knows when his lip twitches slightly upwards, he is thrilled with a victory, typically from a fallen enemy. When his eyes narrow ever so slightly, so slight that most people don't even notice, she knows he is upset. And she knows, when there is a small glimmer in his eyes, he is relieved. Anytime she has seen the glimmer, it has been because she was in danger and now she is safe.

"My lord has come from Kagome, correct?" she asks. He nods minutely, but she sees is quite plainly. "Miroku came back to the village and told us of your conversation with him. Kagome was quite displeased by the news, and threw a tantrum. She locked herself away in hut, that she did. Rin has tried many a time to talk to her, but she is being stubborn. Perhaps my lord could speak to her and convince her that this is for her own good?"

Sesshōmaru is not surprised when Rin relays the news to him in her strangely happy diction. It is characteristic of the miko in his eyes, to be stubborn and ridiculous. He is aware to some extent that she is not from here, and so she isn't very familiar with their customs. But he also knows that to some extent she knows them, and from what he has observed, she tries her hardest to follow their customs. He supposes though that grief has broken her of that, and grief is playing up her stubborn streak. While he does not like the idea of the task at hand, he must complete it anyway.

He begins his trek towards the miko's hut, Rin following close in toe. He casts a glance over his shoulder at her occasionally, knowing as she keeps her brown eyes locked on the ground, that there is something she is holding herself back from saying. Does she expect a present? He has not brought her a kimono like he usually does, and mentally scolds him for such. He should've.

When he pushes back the shingles covering the door, he for a moment thinks he has the wrong hut. Not a candle flickers in the darkness of the room, and the window is boarded up to keep the light out. He thinks that this is an abandoned hut, and almost turns to head to the hut next door, but the ripe scent of the miko reaches his nose and he knows he is in the right place.

"Go away," he hears from the miko, curled up in the sheets of her futon. His eyes narrow slightly, as he represses the urge to sigh at her behavior.

Kagome lays in sheets, curled up around the pillow InuYasha always slept on. She knows that Sesshōmaru and Rin have entered her room, that she is no longer alone with the last remaining bits of her husband. She wants them to leave. She doesn't want to go with Sesshōmaru, she doesn't care about whatever damn tradition dictates that she should leave with him. She's not going. And she knows Rin is trying to be her sweet, helpful self, but she doesn't want Rin. She wants InuYasha.

"Lady Kagome," murmurs Rin as she approaches the miko. Sesshōmaru remains standing in the door, annoyed at the state that the miko is in. Rin, knowing her lord, knows that it is better for her to speak. Sesshōmaru doesn't quite have the grasp of being comforting. Rin places a hand on Kagome's shoulder as she sits beside the woman. She squints in the darkness, wishing for more light than the door provides. "Please get up, you haven't eaten or drank anything in three days. It's unhealthy, and we are just concerned for you."

"It hurts," moans the miko, shrinking into her sheets.

"Of course it hurts," says Sesshōmaru with a humored snort. "Even I, a being who needs little food, knows that it hurts when you go without it for long."

Rin cuts him a sharp glare, exhaling in exasperation. She tries to tell him with her eyes to just let her handle things, that she doesn't need him stepping in and making things worse.

"Lady Kagome, we know it hurts. Rin lost her parents when she was younger, and it still hurts to this day. But you must go on living for them, they wouldn't want to see you like this." When Rin gets no response from Kagome, she sighs. "What would InuYasha tell you if he was here? What would he want you to do, huh?"

"That everything will be okay…" she whispers, before curling up into the pillow again. Rin sighs, again. "InuYasha would've told me that everything would be okay and that I just need some food and sunlight…"

At least it's a start.

Kagome shrugs off Rin's hand as she sits up, the blankets falling to pool around her waist, her white haori hanging open. Kagome closes the haori, and the turns to look over her shoulder at the imposing figure of InuYasha's brother. The man meets her eyes, grey clashing with dull gold. Her lips are drawn into a thin line, she is not pleased with the sight of him. He does not care, his eyes are narrowed, the only emotion he is feeling for the woman annoyance.

"Please leave," she grits out in the politest voice she can manage. She then glances at Rin to have the girl back her up. Rin nods and looks towards Sesshōmaru who nods his head at her insistence and leaves the hut.

"C'mon," Rin says, instantly wrapping her arms around her shoulders, "let's get you some water and food."

"I want to go outside," says Kagome, pushing her way off the bed and away from Rin's arms. Stepping down on to the wooden dirt floor, she nearly topples over, and would've if Rin hadn't rushed to wrap her arms around her waist. "But food and water first," she mutters, reaching out to find the edge of the platform.

Rin scrambles to collect water from outside, checking on the fire she is kindling inside every few moments. She isn't really checking on it to make sure it doesn't get out of hand like she has told Kagome when she asked, but more because she fears Kagome might try to hurt herself if she doesn't check. After all, as soon as the last spark died in the wee hours of the morning, Kagome was digging her fingers through the smoldering ashes, crying and wincing as she burned herself to collect the bones. Rin really didn't want a repeat of that.

The miko watches the sixteen year old girl as she scrambles to get her water and food, checking on the kindling frequently. When the girl is out of sight, she turns her gaze to the fire, the dancing flames of orange, red and yellow, licking at the bottom of the metal pot. She is curious, curious how the flames would feel against her skin. But she also knows that as soon Rin comes back into check on the pot, she'll pull her hands out of the fire, shove them in a pot of water, scold her, and make sure that Sesshōmaru takes her away from here. So she keeps her admiration of the flames in her mind, and keeps her hands clasped in her lap.

But the fire still burns.

**~'~**

_The sand beneath her feet is warm and gritty, the sun baring down on her, warming her skin through her white haori._

_"In the future, we have nude beaches where your free to let it all hang out," she says, opening her eyes to look out at the ocean. The grey waves crashed against the shore, in and out, in and out, dragging away with it the grains. She felt like running up to, sinking her toes into the moist muddy substance and letting the water tickle her ankles. But she doesn't, she glances back at Inuyasha who is sitting on the blanket she spread out for them, shoving rice balls into his mouth._

_"I wouldn't mind seeing you nude," he says after swallowing down the rice ball. She rolls her eyes, and returns to his side, kneeling down on the blanket and grabbing a rice ball. She nibbles at the food, watching him as he observes the ocean._

_"What did you call this again?" he asked, looking back at her._

_She finishes chewing the rice ball, and swallows it down. "A honeymoon. Newly wedded couples go on them in my time to spend time together."_

_He nods, reaching for another rice ball. She swats away his hand, sticking her tongue out at him. He makes another grab for the food, and she grabs onto his wrist, and pulls it to her as she walks on her knees to him._

_"If you want to see me naked," she whispers, eyes slanted as she leans into the hanyo. "Take them off of me."_

**~'~**

"Is the miko ready?" Sesshōmaru asks as he approaches Rin who is bottling more water from the river.

Rin glances up at her lord, a sigh on her lips. No, she feels like telling him, and signals by shaking her head. She does not say the word, because she knows she'll go on a rant that will just annoy her lord. But she so wants to rant, to the point where she has to bite her lip to keep the angry words from spilling out.

Kagome is just so needy and listless. She needs water, cup after cup after cup. She's already had to go down to the river three times now to fetch the water, and as soon as she's got it, she'll have to boil the water outside. And then Kagome will complain that it's too warm, and that she's hungry. Rin will then pour the soup, and then Kagome will grimace every time she takes a sip, glaring at the food because she doesn't like the taste. And then, as soon as Rin steps out to do other things, and she comes back to check on the "fire", Kagome will be staring at it unnervingly, or staring at her hands and Rin won't be able to get her attention.

"When will she be ready?" asks her lord. She sighs again. Her lord is being impatient, and this just isn't what she needs right now.

"I don't know," she replies. She screws on the last lid of the "plastic" bottles that Kagome had brought with her so many years ago from the future. She holds them in her hands, barely able to grasp the five bottles. Sesshōmaru grabs one from her.

"You will inform me when she is."

Rin sighs, and feels like sarcastically replying with a yes, my lord.

**~'~**

_The grass tickles her skin as she lies on it, the cool air tickling the rest of her body. She is naked, her body free to be seen by the world. But there is no one here… well, no one besides her husband who is just as naked as her, also laying in the grass, also letting the wind tickle every part of him. White hair blows in her face, and she spits it out._

_She glances over at him, meets his amber gaze. His eyes are so warm and so loving. This man is her husband, he shows that in his face. His kindness and warmth. She leans over and kisses him, presses her pink lips to her._

_She is so glad she is back here, with him. She is so glad that she is in his arms, she is glad that she can lay with him in the grass, let the breeze blow over them. She is glad that she can cook for him, that she can make the bed for the both of them. She is glad that she is with him, with her love. She loves her family, but she gave them up for him and she finds that she doesn't regret giving them up to be with him. She regrets nothing, because she is with him._

_She'd never give this up. She'd never give up the soft feel of his lips, or the way his eyes flutter shut when he kisses her. She would never give up the way he laughs or the way he talks. She would never give up his baggy red clothing and calloused feet. She would never give him up._

_She smiles._

**~'~**

Kagome cries out, her breath barely escaping past the lump that had formed in her throat. Her eyes sting with tears, one sliding down her cheek, tickling as it falls. She grasps out, falling off the platform. She clatters against the stove, the pain of the fires burning her.

They fires lick at her; they are so painful. But she likes the pain. It makes her real. She enjoys, resting in the flame as they grab onto her hair, and caress her skin, marring her neck and her arms, eating away at the white and red silk. She closes her eyes, the corners of her lips turning upwards as she feels the fires ease away her pain.

But then she feels coldness. Cool water flowing over her. She gasps, eyes snapping open. Water pours into her mouth, hits the back of her throat. She starts coughing, rolling over, grasping her neck as she looks into the clumpy ashes.

"Are you really that pathetic?" asks Sesshōmaru.


End file.
